


It's The Fall That's Gonna Kill You

by TrickstersBlessing (Rinielle)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Episode 98, Found Family, M/M, Realisations, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:16:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23099200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinielle/pseuds/TrickstersBlessing
Summary: "His feet hit the deck beside the unmoving body and he sunk immediately to his knees. Shaking hands had reached first for Fjord's face, his eyes were wide and staring, but there was none of their characteristic warmth, and no rise and fall to his chest. Caleb searched his mind desperately, but there was nothing he could do. No help he could offer...... Unable to do anything but wait, he reached instead for Fjord's hand. The one with the scar still visible across his palm. He had pulled it close to his chest and prayed."
Relationships: Fjord/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 9
Kudos: 156





	It's The Fall That's Gonna Kill You

**Author's Note:**

> I've had the image of Caleb going from full battle mage to sinking down beside Fjord to check on him in my head since it all happened, and I had to get something down.
> 
> Kudos and a cookie to anyone who gets what the title reference is from.

It’s not quiet. It’s anything but.

Around them the storm continues to rage, lightning cracks across the sky, rumbling thunder barely a second behind it, rain lashes the deck of the ship and though it races down Caleb's face too he barely notices.

He knows it’s there, that it’s happening, yet he hasn't heard the storm from the moment he realised this was no ordinary fight. 

\--

At first there had seemed to be a ringing in his ears, a perpetual looping scream.

Beau's voice he noted first.

Fjord's name he realised a moment later.

Confusion had risen in him, then anger, a coil of heat in his chest and pounding in his head, first at whomever could make Beau scream like that, then at whomever had hurt Fjord. Before he had even been really aware of what he was doing he had crashed out into the storm, magic and fury radiating from him as he took aim at those responsible. Hurting them the best he could. It wasn’t enough to put them down, but he satisfied himself a moment later by denying them their escape. 

_  
Not him._

_You can't have him._

_He's ours.  
  
_

Something claws at his throat as he readies another spell.  
  


_He's mine!_

  
Yasha takes down the leader before Caleb can finish his thought and he feels a twisted sort of happiness licking at the inside of his chest at the thought of their final moments. He tried to push it away, remembering what Caduceus had told him. Caduceus who had played his own part in putting an end to the creature now swinging limply from the side of their ship.  
  


_You don’t want to hurt people.  
  
_

_You just don’t want them hurting others. Hurting him._

  
Quick eyes had caught the movement of a final enemy and he released an acid arrow putting an end to their own escape. Then, finally, he surveyed the deck. He had expected Fjord to get up. Movement stilted perhaps, in pain but still with them; but he hadn't stirred. That couldn't be right, Fjord always got back up. Except that he didn't and Caleb had felt the world shrink. Those same sharp eyes finally took in the damage laid out beneath him. Fjord’s entire torso had been torn to ribbons, blood pooled around him even with the rain clattering down trying to wash it away, nearby Orly too lay unmoving, his own blood mixing with his captain’s.

Caleb floated down, his anger sinking out of him and giving way to terror. His feet hit the deck beside the unmoving body and he sunk immediately to his knees. Shaking hands had reached first for Fjord's face, his eyes were wide and staring, but there was none of their characteristic warmth, and no rise and fall to his chest. Caleb searched his mind desperately, but there was nothing he could do. No help he could offer. 

Healing alluded him. All he was good for, all he had ever been good for, was destruction. Hadn’t he just proved that?

Unable to do anything but wait, he reached instead for Fjord's hand. The one with the scar still visible across his palm. He had pulled it close to his chest and prayed. To the Wildmother, to the Traveller, to any and every God whose name he knew. And the world had gone silent. 

\--

He realises it with such horrendous clarity that for a moment he feels as though the very air in his lungs has been torn from him. He can’t breathe. 

He loves him.

Loves him like he loved Astrid… No that’s not right. It’s more than that. And less. It’s different, but it’s real and it tears into him with such force he feels as though his own chest has been carved out. Perhaps it’s his imagination but the scar on his own hand feels suddenly white hot, like it had the first time he’d opened the wound there.

He feels like he’s drowning.

How could he not have known? How could it have taken him until this moment?

How many moments did he have? How many signs were there? Barely seconds pass but he sees them all, from that very first day they had called themselves a group, standing together watching the rest of this strange little troupe coming together.

_  
“We’ll make it work,”_

  
And hadn’t they?

He gasps in a breath and holds it.   
  
Casting his mind over it, he’s known he felt _something_ for some time, but it wasn’t easily definable, and he never dared to try until now. Not the almost brotherly love he knew he felt for Beau, or the deep trust and love that could only be born from shared beginnings and troubles like Veth, not even the easy affection they all must feel for Jester. He and Fjord were, had always been, complicated. Some days being around him felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down at raging waters and hoping he didn’t drown. He should have been more worried about falling.

Suddenly Jester is at his shoulder, one of her sleeves waving in the wind and billowing past his face. Perhaps Beau is there too. With her. He can't check, can't pull his eyes from Fjord's vacant eyes and silent form. But he hopes. He hopes they have each other. He vaguely registers Veth come to a skidding stop beside him, her hands clutching at his arm.  
  
The seconds tick by. He's been counting them from the moment he had heard Beau scream. Thirty six, Thirty seven. They have time. They must. 

Across from him, out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Caduceus' form leant close to the wound in Fjord's chest, there are flashes of light, and a scattering of tiny shards hover a moment across Fjord's face before they shrink back towards Caduceus, but still he does not look away, and still he hears nothing.

Forty. Forty one. 

The silence stretches on. 

He feels Veth's grip on his arm tighten and he clenches his jaw. It's going to work. He needs this to work. It has to. 

Except it isn't. 

Fjord's eyes keep staring. His hand is limp in Caleb's iron grip. 

He feels a sob leave him and his eyes slide closed as he collapses in on himself, for a moment, as though the sounds are muffled from travelling through water, he thinks he hears Jester cry out and Caduceus yell something and then everything goes quiet again. 

Forty seven. Forty eight. 

A long shuddering breath breaks through the nothingness, and the hand in his suddenly clutches back. 

Caleb's eyes fly open. 

For a moment they simply stare at one another, it must not be more than a second but Caleb feels as though he could live in that second forever. Golden eyes, still wide, but no longer vacant, and instead filled with life, looking right back into his own and for that moment nothing else exists in the world. Then Fjord is looking around himself and Caleb looks away blinking, trying to remember how to breathe himself. 

"Did Caduceus just swear?" he hears Fjord say, and the tension breaks all at once. 

The sound of the world comes crashing in with his voice, slightly croaky but present and real; another clap of thunder follows the question. Jester presses over Caleb along with Beau to grip Fjord in a hug, and beside him Veth catches his eye giving him a watery smile. Tears that she will later claim were just the rain still rolling down her cheeks. He manages to smile back. 

"Jester..." Caleb glances up as she breaks away and looks over at where Caduceus is sat then she gasps and takes off across the deck. She must be heading for Orly but Caleb's eyes re-train themselves on Fjord's face. 

Beau is punching him in the shoulder and telling him to never fucking do that again. He winces but makes the promise anyway. Beau backs up and slides an arm around Yashas waist, and the two women lean against one another, attention turning to watch Jester as she attempts her own spell to bring back Orly. 

It's not that Caleb doesn't care about the Tortle. He does. But he trusts Jester to have it in hand, and he finds he just can't quite bring himself to tear his eyes from Fjord. Not now. Perhaps never again.

Fjord himself is thanking Caduceus, reaching his free hand to squeeze the Firbolgs still trembling ones. Caleb realises with a jolt that he is still holding Fjord's other hand in an almost vice grip. With a start he begins to loosen his grip, ready to pull back and give Fjord space to breathe. And breathe and breathe and keep on breathing. Yet even as his own grip softens Fjord's tightens, though he doesn't pause in his conversation, now gently teasing Caduceus for his rather colourful language. “What would the Wildmother say?!” Caleb feels a spray of salt water hit the back of his neck, as the waves continue to crash across the side of the ship and thinks to himself she probably didn’t mind all that much.

There's a strength in Fjord’s fingers that in itself is a relief.

When a shout of relief goes up a moment later, Caleb cannot place it straight away. It takes a moment to remember they are not alone. He finally glances away, letting the weight of Fjord’s hand in his be his reassurance. The rest of the crew has now joined them on the deck and are gathered around a now stirring Orly. Beau and Yasha hurry forwards to help Jester lift him to his feet. His eyes fall on Fjord and he sighs in relief.

“It’s uh, good to suh… see you still with us, Cap’n” he rumbled, “You mmm, gave us quite a scare there,”

“Yes, I...” Fjord’s words caught and he coughed lightly, cringing slightly.

“It takes more than a stupid fish person to take down Captain Tusktooth,” Jester replies cheerily, skipping back over and dropping down to hug Fjord around his shoulders. He winces slightly, but he bares it, reaching up a hand to pat at her arms.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright Orly,” he said, receiving a small bow of the head from the Tortle.

Jester is wrong. Caleb thinks. Or more accurately, she’s lying. He can see it in the way she clings to him, like she’s afraid he might disappear. They all feel it. He can sense it in Beau’s still defensive stance, and how Yasha’s hand hovers ready to grip her sword at a moment’s notice, in how Veth’s eyes are darting back and forth around them, and in the way Caduceus is gently pressing at the tiniest remnants of the diamond that have affixed themselves to his clothes.

In the end. It hadn’t taken anything more or less to take Fjord down. All the things that they had faced before seemed to tower above it and yet here they were…

The time ticks by and they simply huddle together there on the deck in relative quiet. Eventually their guard lessens somewhat, another attack does not appear to be imminent, and Beau sinks to the ground herself, taking the spot beside Jester, the two of them leaning lightly against Fjord’s shoulder. Yasha sits down on Caduceus’ other side, laying a hand on his shoulder. The crew leaves them too it, practised and professional, letting them have this time to simply be together. To take in what they have; and what they so nearly lost.

They have to move eventually however, and it’s Veth who starts it. Clearing her throat loudly and standing up, hands on her hips. Looking every bit the disgruntled mother that is clearly her intent.

“Right you lot. It’s late and it’s been a long day! Time for bed” Beau snorts, and Jester follows her, but they all take her lead and begin to gather themselves. Yasha lends an arm to Fjord and along with Caleb helps to pull him upright. His face is paler than usual, and his front is still stained with his own blood, though it’s been smeared by the rain. He looks terrible, but he looks alive, and that’s what matters, and still he’s holding Caleb’s hand.

“We need to get you a fucking shirt,” says Beau as they all of them begin to move towards the Captain’s quarters. It goes unsaid, unneeded, that nobody is going back to their own bed.

“Why, scared I’ll steal your thunder?” Fjord croaks back and Beau snorts again.

“With these abs? Please,” 

“I think you both have great abs,” Jester chirps, “And you Yasha,” she adds and Yasha gives her a gentle smile.

“Yours aren’t so bad either,” she replies quietly, and Jester preens. Caleb can’t help but smile, the feeling of it strange after all that had just happened. 

“What about mine?” Veth calls, faking offense.  
They reach the door to Fjord’s, now their, quarters with Veth and Beau mid argument about what actually counts regarding ab aesthetic and as the rest crowd through the door and start dragging cushions and sheets from the bed to the floor Caleb hesitates at the doorway, pulling gently at their joined hands to bring Fjord to a halt as well.

For a moment, as Fjord turns his gaze fully onto him for the first time since those first wonderful seconds after he returned to them, Caleb forgets how to speak. 

“Fjord…” he finally manages, but nothing will follow. He’s never been very good with words at the best of times, except when he’s lying. He doesn’t want to lie to Fjord now.

Fjord gives him a small smile, “I know,” he says quietly, except he can’t. He can’t possibly know, and Caleb’s eyes fall to the floor, casting around. He keeps trying to find the words to explain, but nothing will come.

“Caleb,” he looks up again, and Fjord brings their still joined hands up to eye level, and repeats again, with an intensity Caleb is starting to realise he saves just for the two of them, “I know,”

And Caleb believes him. Even though it feels impossible. Even though he does not, cannot ever, deserve it.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Fjord adds, sending a glance into the room where Jester is currently half under the bed, whilst Caduceus asks Beau to explain exactly why she would be looking under there for ‘smutty literature’. 

“Ja,” he replies, then as Fjord turns to walk away he adds, “Fjord?”

Fjord looks back, a question in his expression.

“I think I would like to call in that favour,” he says, and Fjord’s expression turns more quizzical for a moment before he shakes himself.

“Anything,” he said, with such sincerity Caleb thinks his heart might break in two.

He huffs out something resembling a laugh, “Don’t fucking die again,” he says, “Stay with us. With me,”

Fjord looked taken aback for a moment, but he rallied and smiles, gaze drifting back into the room for a moment before settling back on Caleb. “Always.”

Their hands drift apart at last as they enter the room, closing the door on the storm and letting the madness that is their little family wash over them. The scar on Caleb’s hand no longer feels white hot but it’s present in the way it has been since the day he made it. Warmth is settled there, and it feels like a reminder, and a promise. Like always.


End file.
